


Blood Stained

by JaxtheJackal



Category: Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crime Scenes, Detectives, F/M, Supernatural Beings, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 22:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21865186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaxtheJackal/pseuds/JaxtheJackal
Summary: Some killers are born, some killers are made, and sometimes the origins of desire for homicide are lost in the confusion of an ugly childhood and a dangerous choice. Enter Jessica Stone. She knows all to well the dark side of the human heart but is now confronted with the most difficult role of her career and her life. Will she be the woman who has what it takes to stop him?
Relationships: David (Lost Boys)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Rated M for violence, language, adult situations, gore- You know, the stuff that comes with actual vampire stories.  
> The Lost Boys are credited to the writers Janice Fischer and James Jeremias! Owned/distributed by Warner Bros.  
> Theme/Genre is a Detective, Mystery, Supernatural (of course) with Horror, and if we're lucky maybe a touch of Romance.
> 
> A/N: This story was inspired by some tv shows and books I've read in the past with security/police/CSI/detective plots. I'm writing this cause I want to do something different, something unique, something more than the average Lost Boys fanfic. However that's for you, the reader, to decide. I, of course, do hope you enjoy it. Oh! I also want to mention right now, to those taking the time to read this headnote (btw thank you), that this story won't be about an original character falling over heels for any of our beloved vampire biker gang right off the bat. Nope, instead, this story will take a while to grow any possible feelings toward any of the boys due to our main girl's life choices and hardships. With that in mind, I'm not sure who she will end up with- if any, but I'm going to let the story organically choose in the end. So far I do feel it may lean toward David or Marko but we'll just have to see honestly.
> 
> By the way, this story takes place in an alternate universe. Although, I have yet decided exactly what year. And yes, one without the Emersons. Well, till further notice that is. They may show up eventually or may not.
> 
> This story does not have a beta reader, so I'm sorry for any mistakes that will most likely occur. Interested in being one for me? PM me! If you like what you have read then please tell me so I know people are interested in this story.

## PROLOGUE

Some killers are born while some killers are made.

And sometimes the origins of desire for homicide is lost in the tangle of roots that make an ugly childhood and a dangerous choice, so that no one may ever know if the urge was inbred or induced. Either way, the ending result: death, can be a fickle thing. Many are scared of it while others evoke it with daredevil like tendencies. The Grim Reaper is similar to fate for death is the ultimate fairness; rich and poor, young and old, all are equal in death. No one is safe in this world of chaos. No one.

Especially when you mix in those who must kill to survive.

###### 

He lifted the body over his shoulder like rolled up old carpet to be discarded. The soles of his boots scuffing against the remaining shards of blacktop in the parking area, before falling silent on the dead grass and hard ground. The night balmy for November in Santa Carla. A swirling wind tossing fallen leaves, scattering them among the forest. The bare branches of trees rattling together by force like a bag of bones.

He knows he falls into the last category of killers. Not born a killer but made into one. A life once spent in a faint light of happiness forgotten within hours, days, months, even years. The old him piled so far beneath that the only thing left is the wild beast. A beast who only devours others to laugh at their pain.

In the end, he is a monster that begs for more bloodshed. That timid mortal who once pondered when his 'end' will come no longer existed. Not since the Grim Reaper had glanced past him, unseeing his figure lost in the shadows; an undying creature's mortal clock no longer ticking. He became something more in death, has embraced the truth decades ago. He learned to believe that conscience, rules, laws, serve the individual no practical purpose, and only limit the possibilities since the moment he had omitted guilt or remorse.

A beast has no need for remorse after all. Especially over a meal or mortal boundaries. His true self-adheres only to his own code: manipulation, control, and fun.

A broken shard of the moon glared down on the scene, its light faint beneath the web of limbs. He dropped the lifeless weight upon chard grass, dried branches cracking from the mass before pouring the accelerate like a sense of ceremony. He has done many times before, as if to anoint the dead, before digging his gloved hand into the pocket of his coat.

Then there is a scrape of a match against the friction strip, the pop as it bursts into flame, the whoosh of the fire as it comes alive to consumes; ready to eat. With a flick, the body erupted with heat. And as the fire burned, his memory replayed the earlier sounds of pain and fear.

He recalled the tremor in her voice as she pleaded for her life, the unique pitch and quality of each cry as her bones cracked and blood poured between those perfect peach lips. The exquisite music of life and death dancing to the keys of anguish. For one delicate moment, he allowed himself to admire the scene of familiarity. Allowing himself to feel the heat of the flames caress his cool face like tongues of desire, and with an unnecessary intake of air, he closed his eyes to listen to the sizzle and hiss, breathing the smell of roasting flesh deeply.

Indeed a wild beast among men.

Then with no further adieu, he turned and walked away. The tail of his coat dancing to the movement of the wind. The thought of next time, his next meal, already on his mind.

The sight burned its impression into the depths of her memory, into the back of her eyeballs so that she could see it when she blinked against the tears. The body was twisting in slow agony against its horrible fate. Orange flames a backdrop for the image of a nightmare. Dancing, battling against the sky as it stretched, licking at the dead trees.

Burning. . .

She ran. Her lungs burning, her legs burning, her eyes burning, her throat burning. In one abstract corner of her mind, she was the corpse. Maybe this was what death was like? Perhaps it was her body roasting, and this consciousness was her soul trying to escape the fires of hell. She had repeatedly been told that was where she would end up.

Why would fate lead her to such a scene?

In the near distance, she could hear a siren and see the weird flash of blue and red lights against the night. She ran for the street, sobbing, stumbling. Her right knee hit the frozen ground, but she forced her feet to keep moving.

Run run run run run run -

"Freeze! Police!" The cruiser still rocked at the curb. The door wide open. The cop now on the pavement, gun drawn and pointed straight at her.

"Help me!" The words rasped in her throat. "Help me!" She tried again, gasping, tears blurring her vision. Legs buckling beneath the weight of her body and the weight of her fear along with the weight of her heart that was pounding like some huge swollen thing in her chest.

The cop was beside her in an instant, holstering his weapon and dropping to his knees to help. Must be a rookie, she thought dimly. She knew fourteen-year-old kids with better street instincts. If she genuinely wanted to she could have obtained his weapon. If she'd had a knife, she could have raised herself up and stabbed him.

He pulled her up into a sitting position with a hand on either shoulder while sirens wailed in the distance.

"What happened? Are you all right?" he demanded. She couldn't help but notice the man had a face like an angel. As quick as the thought appeared it vanished.

"I saw him," she said, breathless, shaking, bile pushing up the back of her throat. "I was there. Oh- shit. Oh- God. I saw him!"

"Saw who?"

"A Kil- **BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!** "

With a groan, a stumbling hand searched for the black phone on the coffee table blindly, fingers grazing over it before grasping the thin frame and lifting it. The dim light of the screen lit up a pale face. Between dark squinting eyes the woman managed to turn it off before covering them with both arms. Her mind already registering the dream. A distorted mess of a memory so long ago. It wasn't unnatural for this memory to resurfaces every now and then, especially since her recent case took place where she grew up: Good old Santa Carla Californa. A place that never failed its second and more famous title, "Murder Capital of the World".

With a lazy rollover, socked feet hit the ground. The bathroom calling her name. She made her way to the small bathroom across the hall. The cool water washing over her face with a creak of the faucet.

Behind closed eyes, she could still see the dark flames devouring the frail body...

That memory was why she decided to become a Homicide Detective in the first place. The dreadful realization that there are people out there who achieve some sick satisfaction by killing others fueling it.

A tired gaze stared back at her as she let the water run, the white noise easing her mind. Being back in Santa Carla weighed a lot on her shoulders. Being born here meant she knew every nook and cranny, yet time has passed since she left her hometown. Some things have evolved, people change. What was in store for her was unclear, but that wouldn't stop her.

This is her chance to make a difference.


	2. Stained Evidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More evidence comes forth as another body is discovered.

### Chapter 1 

"Stained Evidence"

###### 

Jessica donned protective gear and ducked under the yellow tape protecting yet another crime scene. Christ. Was that a dismembered hand one of the techs is bagging?

She pressed her lips together. Whoever the victim was, he or she hadn't gone easily. Jessica headed toward the black tarpaulin covering the newest corpse, ready to make sense of this scene. Various pieces of the victim's body lay tagged as evidence all around the crime scene. From the call she received earlier, this case appeared to be connected to their serial killer.

As she finally reached the body, Leon stepped from around the corner of the closest building, his face grim. Those usual dark circles around his eyes seemed deeper, a statement to how tired he was from pulling these late-night shifts. Determined to keep her focus on the scene and not on Leon, not on the memories they recently shared, Jessica caught his gaze and lifted her chin in greeting, then squatted next to the largest piece of the victim. She adjusted the shoulders strap of her work bag and pulled back the tarp, exhaling at the carnage before him.

The body was shredded. Barely recognizable as bipedal except for the stub of one partial leg. "Fucking hell-"

"Whoever's doing this, they're escalating." Leon hunkered down next to her. This close, the frustration at the lack of leads and the anger at such a senseless crime was clear to Jessica like a wave of emotions that always seemed to accompany him since they first met years ago.

As did the subtle smell of soap and cologne.

Jessica cleared her throat. "For someone to have done all this-" one hand gestured over the evidence, "-it had to be personal."

"Maybe." Leon glanced over to the building from where he'd come. "We've got his spleen and what looks like part of his pancreas around the corner. One hand was over there"- he pointed toward the east side of the lot where Jessica had seen the tech putting the hand into an evidence bag- "and the ME says part of the victim's spine was in the street." Leon grimaced. "I found a pair of footprints over near the alley and had Ethan take a cast."

"Great."Jessica stared at the body and tried to disassociate herself from all the blood and gore around her. Peering closer at the face, she noticed bone shinning through the frail skin, and one fang protruding from what was left of the open mouth.

That's different.

"The signs are all there." Leon draped the tarp over the victim, compassion evident in the careful way he did it, before rising to face Jessica. His expression was hard, his gaze steely. His resolve apparently set in stone. "This has to be our killer's handiwork."

As much as Jessica wanted to believe this could have leads, that this is indeed part of their killer's work, she had nothing to offer up but her gut feeling. The deceased didn't seem right. Sure, the victim was torn to shreds like a pack of wild animals got ahold of them, like the others, but something was off. There was more happening here than that.

"Maybe. We'll have to see after the lab runs the evidence."

He shoved his hands into his coat. "You're being a little stubborn about this, aren't you?"

Jessica frowned. "We can't jump to conclusions. You and I both know that." Then gave a short pause as the Crime Scene Technicians carrying the evidence away caught her attention. Her mind still analyzing. "I know this is your jurisdiction, but the Chief called me in to help so let's not rush things."

"You're the same as ever." His lips quirked. "Did you even miss me?"

"Shut up, Leon," she muttered, but the order was delivered without much heat. She knew he was only teasing, yet she didn't want to dive into this. Whatever they had shared a year ago was over.

Jessica turned to the body again. "There's not much to ID the vic. Did the ME at least give a gender?"

"He thinks it's a male. But he won't know for sure-"

"Until he gets the body on the table." Jessica finished the often-repeated phrase. She started a slow circuit of the crime scene, very aware of Leon walking next to her. Pools of blood indicated the various places pieces of the body had been found.

One of the techs photographed some small piece of evidence, then he picked it up with a pair of tweezers and deposited it into a bag. As he taped the bag closed, she asked Leon. "You think this may be done through rage? Or a more significant reason? I mean, why kill the vic here of all places? Why not dump the body like the first victim?" Leaving evidence in an open space for anyone to find seemed bold. They wanted the remains to be found.

A muscle twitched in Leon's jaw. "I don't know." He glanced around the scene. "This could have some significance to it or it could just be nonsense. Some don't need a reason to commit a murder."

"Hey!" A tech motioned them over. "You two might want to see this."

Jessica and Leon made their way over to him. He held a scrap of paper about the size of a credit card between the ends of his tweezers, holding it out so they could see it.

The paper was yellowed, ragged around the edges. The writing appeared to be in pencil, written lightly, and faded with age. Jessica pointed toward a word taking care not to touch the paper. "This looks like it could be a W… Were- something. Maybe?"

Leon raised his eyebrows. "You could be right." He looked to the tech. "Thanks. Let us know if you find more of this."

The tech nodded and got back to work.

They moved toward the edge of the scene before Jessica came to a pause again, watching them secure the body onto a stretcher. "I wonder who the vic is." She mused aloud.

"Maybe they'll be able to identify the poor guy."

"I just have this feeling about them, you know?" This may be the Murder Capital of the World, but crimes like this haven't occurred since the '80s. Somebody was targeting humans with no rhyme or reason they could see. Yet. It didn't help that neither of them are closer to finding out why.

"This is the third killing in a week. There appears to be no connection between the first two victims, and until we know who the third one is, we can't tell if there's anything different or new that might connect him to the other two."

Leon peeled off his latex gloves and walked to the perimeter of the site. When she followed, he reached out and lifted the yellow tape for her to pass under, then he did the same. They removed the rest of their protective gear and dropped them in the designated bin. He tipped his chin at the uniformed officer standing guard and walked Jessica to her car half a block down the street.

Lifting a hand, he scrubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I know it's been months, but maybe you'd like to get a coffee with me? As temporary partners?" The last bit was thrown in to save his rear no doubt.

"Not now." Jessica pursed her lips. She really had no desire to rehash old times with an old fling. She glanced at him while brushing her hands together to remove the powder the gloves always left behind. Staring up at him, Jessica could see the hope in that grey gaze meeting hers. She sighed. "Maybe later, Leon."

His lips lifted in a smirk as if he won this round but he didn't say anything. When she yanked open the door and nearly nailed him in the gonads, he backed away with a mumbled curse.

It was Jessica's turn to smile sweetly at him, well aware of her actions. "I'm going to make my report, then I'm off for the night. Give me a ring if anything important comes up." Then she got in the car, strapped herself in, and drove off.

###### 

The small notebook on the table glared back at her. Notes and doodles littering the open page similar to a mocking manner. The fang protruding from the recent victims cheek not leaving her mind. It was odd, yet it could be nothing. Some people have unusual teeth or receive dental work to gain them. There was their telling right now, and it could be just another dead end.

What about the torn paper?

"Miss, would you like a refill." The waitress offered a smile when Jessica looked up at her. The coffee pot already in her hand.

Jessica grabbed the notebook off the table. "No thanks. I'll take a cup to go."

"It'll just be a sec." The waitress reassured before walking away.

Jessica pocketed her notes and downed the remaining brew in her cup before standing. Hands already fishing out a few bills to lay on the table. By the time she made it to the small counter, the waitress had a steaming cup in hand.

"Here you go." Her kind smile pulling at the wrinkles around her nose.

"Thanks."

Jessica stepped outside. The night air cool to her cheeks, but inviting nonetheless. The right idea would be to head home, get some rest, but Jessica turned away from the idea.

What if another murder happens tonight?

Despite it not being her primary job, Jessica decided to do one loop around the area. The dinner itself blocks away from any recent activity, but it still wouldn't hurt. It could even help ease her mind.

Street lamps lit the road along with a few stores still open in the late hours. Foot traffic scarce which was never a bad thing with a killer on the loose. The weight on her hip comforting as Jessica whipped around a corner.

A police cruiser drove by, stopping at a light before continuing.

Two figures a few yards away stepped across the street, heading in her direction. The smallest, more feminine outline, leaning heavily on the other. Drunk most likely. Jessica turned her gaze elsewhere, watching a shop owner lock his doors.

Hands brushed her arms just as a weight stumbled into her. Almost knocking her right off her feet. "Oh, fuck- sorry." A slurred giggle slipping past the female's lips as she straightens up. The male beside her helping by grabbing her arm.

"Excuse us." His words stable, calm. Not even a single hint to being intoxicated yet light as if enjoying himself. While the breath of the other could knock a horse out.

Jessica narrowed her eyes. "Everything alright here?"

"Oh yeah." The woman leaned into the man, smiling in a daze, completely relaxed. "Just too many drinks, ya' know? Sorry 'bout knocking into ya'. Just- just-"

"She's just a little out of it." Her companion filled in.

Jessica looked up at him. Her gut feeling telling her something was fishy. Did this man ruffie the poor girl? Was there a second motive here? Or maybe it's just her mind overthinking things. It could be the case weighing her down. After all, anything could appear fishy if you looked hard enough.

Caucasian, possibly early to mid-twenties with short curly blond hair. Done up in that no muss, no fuss crew cut style. The man was on the shorter side but still taller than his companion. His shoulders broad and face sharp. The casting of shadows from the lights around them making it difficult to see eye color let alone much else, though she noticed the angle his eyes. How they droop just slightly at the corners.

He didn't seem dangerous from a glance alone. She couldn't quite put her finger on what made him suspicious besides his intoxicated lady friend.

His lips lifted into a smile. One that could be charming in a different scenario. "Sorry, again."

Jessica took a step back. Her hands loosely falling into her jacket. "It's fine. Just get her home before she hurts herself."

"Will do." He gave a guiding tug on her arm, ready to walk off.

"Ain't he a sweetheart?" The female chimed in, swaying a little as her feet started to move. "My own personal angel."

Jessica watched the two walk away, biting the inside of her lip as the silhouettes disappeared around a corner. That lingering feeling pulling at her stomach. Then she turned away. The scuff of her own boots on pavement the only sound accompanying back to the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider leaving a kudos and or comment if you liked this chapter. Receiving feedback is always helpful to me.


End file.
